


That Which Glitters

by boywonder



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Missing Scene, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/pseuds/boywonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>By the time Melisande finally led Phèdre away from the party, the girl could barely find words to speak. She ached with so many things, not least of all a deep longing for the touch of the woman who held the other end of the velvet leash. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Glitters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Borusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borusa/gifts).



> The scene between Melisande and Phèdre during the Longest Night seemed almost disappointing to me when I first read these. Based on your prompt, dear yuletide recipient, I got the feeling you might agree with that.
> 
> I took a couple liberties with the existing scene, and I hope you're satisfied with no plot and lots of porns instead.
> 
> Please enjoy.

It was all Phèdre could do throughout the evening to just keep her feet. If Melisande’s plan had been only to humiliate her, that would have been bad enough. However, if that had been _all_ there was to it, she could have endured it better. Others had sought to humiliate her – and had succeeded, at times – in her past assignations, after all. Of course, none had quite the audacity that Melisande Shahrizai had. And none were _quite_ as well equipped to handle Phèdre, either, though some were better suited than others. But simple humiliation was not Melisande’s game; nothing the woman did was _simple_ , after all. 

Phèdre wondered, later, if part of Melisande’s reason for parading her more or less naked in front of the peers of the realm was so that she would not be able to keep her wits. Of course, Melisande of all people knew that Phèdre reported back to Delaunay. But had Melisande really known the full effect that the gauzy diamond “dress” would have on Phèdre? The girl could not truly say. She herself had not known, as the servant fastened the cloth around her, how completely she would be under Melisande’s thumb for the evening. She guessed she might have been so, anyway, simply due to their respective natures. But even had she been _actually_ naked, and bound by real chains, she would not have felt so captive as she did following on the velvet cord after her temporary mistress.

By the time Melisande finally led Phèdre away from the party, the girl could barely find words to speak. She ached with so many things, not least of all a deep longing for the touch of the woman who held the other end of the velvet leash. 

For her part, Melisande had barely touched Phèdre the entire evening. Others had touched her, with Melisande’s allowance, but then only barely – a hand brushing a nipple perhaps, or squeezing a buttock. Melisande had no intention of allowing Phèdre any _real_ pleasure until she deigned to. When or if that would come to pass, Phèdre did not know.

Once they were at last alone, Melisande bound the girl and cut the diamond fabric off of her as if it were nothing. And truly, it was next to nothing, physically. And the cost surely did not matter to Melisande Shahrizai; what was money to one such as her? Phèdre could not really imagine having such wealth herself, but she understood how it went. And she understood Melisande, or at least, she believed she did.

The _flechettes_ did not break her skin as the fabric fell away; Melisande was too good for that. They cut only when she wished them to – and then, she was a master of her art. 

At the first cut on her breast, Phèdre could not help but cry out – in pleasure as well as in pain, thanks to her nature as an _anguissette_. As the blood welled up on the curve of her breast, her already hard nipples hardened even further, forming hard little rocks on her chest. The blood began to flow down her body, and wetness flowed down her thighs, as if her body sought to mirror itself with its response to the pain.

Phèdre had never felt such pain. The _flechettes_ were designed with only one function in mind, and they were _very_ well-crafted. And Melisande wielded them as if she had been born to do so. In a way, perhaps she had, just as Phèdre had (in a sense) been born to have such implements used on her. 

Phèdre trembled under the blades, trembled and cried and screamed as her mistress willed her to. Melisande did not speak. Phèdre’s vision clouded crimson and she saw nothing, but she _felt_ everything. She heard a voice, begging for mercy, though she not quite recognize it as her own. The _flechettes_ themselves were Melisande’s only answer.

Finally, she dragged one blade down Phèdre’s body, following the line of blood that had flowed from her breast, over the mound between her legs, leaving another paper-thin red line in her wake. She stopped the blade and rested it against Phèdre’s lower lips. It was only then that she spoke.

“Say it, Phèdre,” she said – more of a command than anything else she’d said to the girl that day. 

Phèdre squeezed her eyes shut. She knew that Melisande was not bluffing – the knife would continue its path if Phèdre did not do as she had told. Would that be a punishment, Phèdre wondered? For a moment, she imagined the blade sliding along her lips, over her aching, swollen clitoris, more blood welling up as she screamed and writhed…

“Hyacinthe,” she said, gasping the word.

The _flechette_ was gone in a heartbeat. While it was true that Melisande had ordered to her to utter her _signale_ , that did not mean it would not be obeyed. Whether spoken under some duress or not, ignoring a _signale_ was still treason. A scion of Kushiel would not commit such a sin.

Phèdre could have chosen _not_ to say, it after all. At least, in theory she could have. Phèdre wasn’t sure she could have disobeyed Melisande at that moment, no matter what she’d ordered.

Melisande took Phèdre down from her restraints, then, and laid her on soft pillows. 

“You did very well,” she said, and Phèdre practically glowed under those words of praise. 

Melisande did not dress the girl’s wounds yet. The _flechettes_ were gone, but the longest night was not yet over.

Phèdre was embarrassingly wet when Melisande’s fingers found their way between her legs. She parted them without being asked, and Melisande found her cunt open and waiting. She slid two fingers inside without pause, and met with no resistance whatsoever. Phèdre, for her part, could not keep from pushing her hips up into the touch.

“Say your little friend’s name for me again, Phèdre,” Melisande said, pulling her fingers back and all but slamming them back into the girl’s body.

“Hyacinthe,” Phèdre answered, for no reason – a word given because it had been requested, not given to ask for any cessation. 

But a _signale_ was a _signale_ , and Melisande withdrew her hand. 

Phèdre’s answering moan was practically a whine.

“Hush now,” Melisande said, placing her hand against Phèdre’s lips to quiet her. “I am not finished with you yet, unless you will it.”

Phèdre shook her head. Of course she did not will her mistress to stop – quite the opposite. And of course Melisande knew as much. She pushed her fingers past Phèdre’s lips and into her mouth. Phèdre could taste herself there – her blood and her own wetness. She might have been embarrassed, had she the sense to be. She barely held on to the sense to do _anything_ of her own accord. She was still hurting from the cuts on her skin, and her cunt was practically throbbing with unfulfilled need. Naamah’s pearl was hard and swollen, peeking out from between Phèdre’s lips as if begging to be seen and attended to.

Melisande did not oblige.

She pulled her fingers out of Phèdre’s mouth, drawing another near-whine from the girl, and stood. Phèdre forced her eyes open, though the crimson haze lingered and made it hard to focus on much of anything. She did not sit up, even when she heard Melisande’s footsteps move away. Only a minute or two passed before the footsteps came again, though this time they were much softer. Melisande had removed her own clothes and shoes, discarding them somewhere Phèdre did not see. Phèdre was naked, of course, save for the diamond on the cord around her neck. Once again, she felt more naked than naked – an effect she was certain Melisande had intended.

Melisande ran one finger along the sigil carved into Phèdre’s breast, eliciting a cry from the girl. Phèdre did her best not to writhe embarrassingly at the touch. Melisande rewarded that effort by moving her hand over to Phèdre’s nipple and pinching it, then twisting it roughly. She used her other hand to give the other breast the same treatment, and Phèdre’s attempts at remaining still became failures.

Her cries from this, however, were only cries of pleasure. Though of course it hurt, the pain was nothing in comparison with what Melisande had done with the _flechettes_ , and Phèdre’s body still felt those cuts rather acutely. This, she simply enjoyed, whether she wished to or not.

“Is there something you want, my little _anguissette_?” Melisande asked, teasing, as she released her grip on Phèdre’s nipples.

“You, my lady. You, you…” Phèdre answered, only half-coherently.

Melisande chuckled at that, just slightly. “Is that all?”

“Is that not enough?” Phèdre responded, and managed to get her eyes to focus on Melisande’s face. Ah, Elua, the woman was beautiful: distant and cold, like the snow atop a mountain, far off and untouchable, but glittering and magnificent all the same.

Phèdre reached for her, but Melisande pushed her hand away. She leaned down and kissed the girl almost chastely, certainly not granting her anywhere near enough satisfaction from the kiss.

But she had decided she wanted Phèdre’s mouth put to another use. Phèdre perceived this desire as Melisande moved to reposition herself; even through her hazy mind, Phèdre had been trained in the arts of Naamah, and it was easy to fall back on that training, when she could not function enough to fall back on Delaunay’s training. 

Melisande moved so that one knee was on either side of Phèdre’s face. Her cunt was also open and waiting, dripping wetness onto her thighs. Phèdre felt her heart quicken at the realization. Melisande was so good at making this all seem like business. To realize that she was as filled with desire as Phèdre herself was made the girl feel almost _proud_.

Of course, Phèdre had been with other women before, but none of them had demanded she perform the _languissement_ this way. Men, certainly, had done similar. But it was different with a woman.

It was different with _Melisande_.

Melisande lowered herself enough that Phèdre could access her, but not quite as much as she wanted to. At first, even lifting her head and straining her neck a little, Phèdre could only barely taste the woman. She lapped at her swollen lips, tasting her wetness there. She ran her tongue over Melisande’s swollen pearl, and she could feel the tiniest tremor in her mistress’s thighs. Encouraged, she did it again, circling Melisande’s clitoris with the tip of her tongue, relishing the tremors as they came again. She could hear Melisande’s breath quicken just slightly.

After only another moment of the girl teasing her, Melisande decided she had had enough. She pushed her hips down and forward, giving Phèdre full access, and practically demanding more of her mouth. 

Phèdre took to her task eagerly, drawing the inner lips into her mouth and sucking them, then pushing her tongue inside, all but drinking the wetness out of the woman above her. She pushed her tongue in and out, lapping at the hole, drawing more of that taste into her mouth.

Melisande allowed it for a minute before she moved again, twining her fingers into Phèdre’s hair and holding her where she wanted her, then grinding against her mouth. Phèdre accommodated as best as she could, finding Melisande’s clit again and suckling at it, using lips and tongue (but never teeth – not with Melisande, she would not dare) as her mistress fucked her mouth. She could hear Melisande’s breathing start to become ragged, and she sucked harder. She also drew her arms up, holding on to the lady’s legs, almost as if anchoring her there while she worked her mouth against her.

As if to remind Phèdre of her place here, Melisande reached back with her free hand and worked her fingers between Phèdre’s legs. She found the girl’s pearl and pinched it with her nails, digging them into the sensitive, swollen nub. Phèdre moaned against Melisande, losing the sound as bronze wings beat in her ears. Still, she continued, despite Melisande’s nails cruelly digging in to her most sensitive flesh. 

Melisande did not say Phèdre’s name as she came, which would be a disappointment to the girl when she realized it later. In the moment, though, she enjoyed the sound of Melisande’s moans, and the last flow of her juices. She pushed her tongue into Melisande once more, feeling the walls of her cunt clench as her orgasm hit.

Melisande tightened her hand in Phèdre’s hair again, painfully, for just a moment. When she released the girl, she also pulled away and swung her leg away. She stood, and if her orgasm had made her shaky, she did not show it. She was gone for what seemed to Phèdre to be a long while. It was all the girl could do not to reach between her own legs while she waited. Luckily, she maintained enough self-control not to do that. She would wait for her mistress’s pleasure – or she would go without, if that was the way it ended.

Luckily for Phèdre, Melisande had no intention of leaving her unfulfilled.

She returned with a leather-wrapped wooden rod – a fabricated phallus. Of course, Phèdre had seen such things before.

She wondered, as Melisande approached, if Melisande had used it herself before now. She imagined her lovely mistress laying in her bed, pushing the toy into her own wet cunt, working herself on it like she’d worked herself against Phèdre’s mouth…

“Open yourself to me,” Melisande commanded, as much in control as she had ever been. One would never have guessed she’d had an orgasm that had caused her legs to tremble and shake only minutes before.

Phèdre obeyed, spreading her legs and reaching down with one shaky hand to part her own lips for her lady.

A ghost of a smile played on Melisande’s face as she knelt between the girl’s legs again. She pushed the phallus in all at once. The coldness of the leather was shocking to Phèdre, and she cried out. The temperature scarcely mattered for long, though. Melisande began fucking her in earnest with the toy right away, giving her no time to adjust. Of course, she was so wet that it didn’t really matter. And she was trained in these things, so it wasn’t long before her hips rose to meet the thrusts. Tears came to her eyes – tears of relief? Gratitude? Still humiliation? She could not say, but tears there were. 

After a few minutes of that, as Phèdre neared climax, Melisande did something that the girl would never have predicted – she leaned down and took Phèdre’s pearl into her mouth, sucking on it. She never stopped working the phallus, of course, pounding it in and out of the girl’s body even as her tongue moved against her clit. Phèdre could not endure that for more than a few moments, after so long waiting and wanting. She came hard, hips rising, body drawn taut as a bowstring. 

That was not enough for Melisande, however. The only thing that changed after the orgasm was that she used her teeth, scraping them against Phèdre’s still-hard little clit, drawing another cry out of her. The phallus worked inside her, angled just right, continuing its painful rhythm as Melisande fucked her with it. The next orgasm was almost immediate.

After that, Melisande moved her mouth away, but she continued fucking the girl relentlessly. After awhile, she used her free hand to toy with Phèdre’s clit again, rubbing the oversensitized flesh until it forced another orgasm from her.

Phèdre had no idea how long it went on. Melisande drew orgasm after orgasm out of her, using mouth and toy and teeth and nails. Sometimes she would draw a nail along the lines of dried or drying blood still on the girl’s skin. Sometimes she would suck on a nipple, only to bite it as the orgasm hit. It went on and on, and Phèdre could hear herself beg for mercy, but none was granted. 

Still, she would not use her _signale_ again unless Melisande desired it.

Eventually, it ended. Phèdre’s nerves were all on fire. Melisande pulled the phallus out of her with an audible sound. She ran her hand lightly down Phèdre’s torso, this time staying away from the lines she’d carved into her. The girl whimpered and shuddered, but Melisande shushed her.

She went away for awhile. When she returned, Phèdre had regained some of her faculties. 

Melisande lay beside her, brushing her hair off her forehead; it had stuck there in sweaty curls.

“Come clean me up and I will let you rest,” Melisande murmured.

Fresh heat ran through Phèdre at the words. She forced her limbs to move through their languor, moving to kneel between Melisande’s legs despite the way it hurt her in some places to move that way. 

She did as she’d been asked, licking all of the wetness from Melisande’s thighs and cunt. It was an order to be followed and nothing more, however; when Phèdre tried to coax more response from Melisande by sucking on her clit again, Melisande put a stop to it by tugging the girl away by her hair. 

Chided, Phèdre moved to lay back down. Melisande brought damp cloths to clean her with, and did so with the utmost care. There was affection in her gestures, wiping blood and other fluid off of the girl. 

Shortly after that, Phèdre faded into sleep, with Melisande’s diamond still at her throat. She slept deeply, satisfied in a way that no patron save Melisande could have satisfied her.

In the morning, Melisande was gone, and left her with only the rags of the “dress” she’d worn the night before, and a shining diamond – a deceptive promise of what the future might hold.


End file.
